The hands of God

businessman-on-a-high-wire-15453-01ae.jpg

I walked a tightrope strung up high

Above life’s chasm of melanchoy

No net below nor aid above

I walked alone devoid of love

Or so I thought, for once when I

Seemed ready to fall down from up high

A voice reached out and embraced my soul

Before troubled winds could take their toll

And when my feet began  to burn

And teeming winds to buffet and churn

The voice that I had yet to trust

Told me to let go and fall

But I could not, too full of doubt

“I cannot!” I heard myself shout

I tried to walk my slim tightrope

But slowly began to lose all hope

Till that voice came stronger still

And in my heart confidence instilled

That urged me to heed, so I ceased to trod

And fell into the hands of God

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6 thoughts on “The hands of God

  1. Thanks. I am glad you like it. A bit scary to share my work, but I’d like my students to know that while I am demanding that they create, I am also willing to put myself out there. This is something I wrote a very long time ago.

  2. Hi Visha! Nice to see you here. Thank you so much for the encouraging comments. In answer to your question- no, I don’t teach literature. I have my hands full with English!

  3. I find this poem enlightening. I feel it is about people who truly love you always being there when you need help most.

    I feel however that we shouldn’t depend too much on these people not only because we will be a burden to them but also because too much dependence will mean that we cannot be able to gauge how fast and effective we are learning.

    Well, that’s what I think.

    (I also just noticed a small smiley at the bottom of each page)

  4. Wow I only saw the smiley because you pointed it out to me. It’s REALLY small!

    I like your interpretation of the poem I have never seen it that way. To me the poem has always been about having faith in God. When I was younger (and even now) I struggled with the idea of what exactly God was- a person, a force, a power. There has always been this disconnect in my mind between the idea that I can control everything around me, and the fact that sometimes no matter what I do, I can’t dictate how things are going to go.

    I a sense, the poem uses the image of a tightrope walker to symbolise my trepidation as I balance all the different aspects of my personality and my life. If I fall, what happens to me? What does falling imply? Does it mean I’ve failed? And so what if I fail?

    I still don’t have any definitive answers, but I’m going to keep thinking about the questions. And along the way I welcome fellow travellers.

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